Up the folded steps the figment of some shade, slipping through the door, leading me on through the palaces of forgotten light.

What I write is etched in these walls, as though through some metamorphosis the arcane signs flowered equally from stone and a restless mind.

There are artifacts here of all sizes and descriptions; computers, alembics, music-boxes, spell books. I have come to recognize all artifice as a form of jewelry.

Yet through them the order of shapes and distinctions, the schematics of the universal, glints through like a witch light on a flickery cave.

What I present here are machines, yet not machines in the ordinary sense. I am looking beyond pragmatic function to the machinery of meaning; not merely purpose, but the facets of dynamism which give light and fire to life.

On one level each of the machines is art. Whether or not mysticism or perpetual motion are practical, symbolism and devices have an aesthetic value. If mysticism is not transcendent, we can at least say that art transcends between the artist and the viewer, and perpetual motion transcends the idea of mere function.

Likewise, art inspires other artists, and in that sense is a perpetual process that is self-sustaining within its context. Mysticism is concerned with the eternal and as it pertains to transcendence or the sustenance of the most elemental and sublime, is a kind of social motion machine.

Thus what I call my Impossible Machine is in fact several different machines, which may not yield to every demand when considered alone, but which in the context of one another gain a special value, which is a reassurance that there is a common reality amongst them. This is what I call meaning.

To read more on the concept of an "impossible machine" read below.Otherwise, feel free to explore the links.

All the materials in this site are copyright (C) 2001, '2, '3, '4, '5, '6, '7, '8 Nathan CoppedgePlease cite Eucaleh Terrapin if using the material for educational purposes. Commercial use of the material, by which I mean writings, artwork, and inventor's drawings is by permission only.

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ANOTHER VIEW OF THE IMPOSSIBLE MACHINE

Machines played a special role during the renaissance as a metaphor for the divine plan within which humanity had a special role, perhaps as engineer.

The presence of clocktowers, waterwheels, windvanes, and later trolleys, revolving doors, elevators, electronic consoles, security systems, etc. creates the notion that the city is in some respect a machine.

Clearly this is one of the foundations for the idea of a machine in the Matrix movie as the digitized city within a larger metropolis.

In Italo Calvino’s novel Invisible Cities, the landscape is so fantastical that we might imagine they are brought to mind through holographs in some sort of high-minded game.

Clearly when the cities themselves are ideas brought to mind through some sort of deeper mechanics, the impossible machine is not strictly a place so much as the flexible system of concepts through which the special value of distinct objects is recognized.

The currency of such a system is metaphorical; by comparing unlike things it is possible to bridge the gap between the possible and impossible, through a kind of alchemical thought.

Functional machines become metaphors for functional ideas.

Functional ideas become systems forming theories.

Theories in turn create metaphorical machines, related to the notion of thought experiments, "attributes" of gods, and eternal logic.

When metaphorical machines are functional we find a true paradox, an archetype exercising in a material agora. In this way the actions of mind become more apparent, tangible, and operative.

Needless to say, symbols are operating here on every level.

The spiritual quest itself becomes a machine, or even a machine that does not move.

The mind begins to form a new game every time it makes a decision.

Like the mind, the machine only moves when it works.

Forming a working machine is then evidence of life’s profound mechanic.

Yet the struggle for operativeness within limited means enshackles the engineer to a life that is spiritually self-limiting.

Longing for something beyond a machine that is itself perhaps impossible, the engineer finds a logic in things outwardly irrational: the categorical relation between things assumed distinct.

Yet, whether or not the man is free, he has cloistered himself amongst so many mechanations, so that at the very least he feels they belong in his garden.

Please feel free to explore the portion of the garden that is present here.